A/N: A slightly shorter chapter this time around. This is a very interesting concept for a story so far, and I'm having a blast seeing what I come up with for it. I wanted this story to have more of a balance between the psychological aspect and action, so far things are blending together nicely. Hope you guys enjoy!
Barry stepped out of the downtown pet store, a slim box clutched in his hand. On the box was a picture of a midnight blue collar lined with little rocketships for its print theme. One would be forgiven for writing off such an ordinary-looking collar as nothing special, but this particular collar was of an experimental type. It had a controversial reception upon its release, but still somehow found its way to the shelves. It was marketed as a "last last resort collar", when all other disciplinary tactics had fallen short. Shock collars, ear-splitting whistles, spray bottles, beep-booping collars, and all of the above. This was the collar to be the end all, be all.
The concept of the collar was simple, it worked through microwave technology to induce an intense burning sensation all over the wearer's body. What made it appealing, or as much as it could be, was that it left no physical damage behind. For Barry, that was what sold him on the collar, and any training collar able to pass as an ordinary one was a win. Barry had to shell out a good amount of the allowance he had been putting aside for a retro game's console on eBay, but the console could wait — disciplinary retribution was of the essence.
Barry took his helmet out of his backpack and put it on, strapping up. Then he crammed the collar's box in its place and zipped it up. As he walked to his black mini bike, leaning by the curbside, he came to a sudden halt. When he saw the poster plastered on the telephone pole, those stark bold letters at the top spelling out "MISSING", his blood ran cold and a true sense of impending doom came over him. "What have I gotten myself into?" Barry whispered to himself.
On that very poster, was a photo of none other than the very same dalmatian he'd stolen from the park. Comet. Below the photo was the text: "Stolen. If sighted or found, please report to Camden Police Department or return to this address. . . "
Barry's heart sank, and it felt that he'd let his dreams usurp his judgment. "Aw, no. . . They can't be searching, already?" He said in a crestfallen voice.
Barry knew he couldn't let them have the upper hand in this fight. So, Barry glanced around checking for any witnesses. Once no one was looking, he swiftly snatched the poster off the telephone pole and crumpled it up. He then chucked it into a conveniently close by trash can, then dusted his hands off. "Won't be needing that."
Barry then climbed onto his mini bike and stuck the keys into the ignition. He started the mini bike, its noisy single cylinder motor buzzing to life like an angry bumblebee. Barry then pulled away from the curb and rode off.
As Barry rode down the street, put-puttering behind a red sedan, he started noticing an uptick in police out on patrol today. He looked off to the side, and saw a white police horse with a blonde mane cantering down the opposite street with an absent-minded police man riding on its back twiddling away on his smartphone. Secretly, Barry hoped there were more of these cops that were just there to collect a paycheck. In the opposite lane a police car cruised on by, passing the police horse.
Barry knew no one suspected him currently, but seeing that police car driving right past him made his stomach churn. He wanted to head on home and get out of the public, but seeing that "missing" poster made it clear that there was more work to be done. What if one of his parents saw one? What if his father drove home from work and learned the truth about their beloved stray, Comet? So, as Barry rode his mini bike through the streets of Camden, he kept his eyes peeled for any of those pesky posters.
Another one spotted! Barry sped over to the curbside and squeezed the brakes, stopping abruptly — so abruptly he did a miniature stoppie. He left the mini bike running, wanting to be in and out with the deed. Barry did his thing and waited until there were no witnesses around. Then, once clear, he ripped the poster clean off the wooden telephone pole. Barry crumpled up the poster and casted it into a metal trash can as if it were nothing more than a gum wrapper. After the poster fell into the bin, Barry heard a loud angry braying from a horse.
Startled, he whipped his head around to see a gray police horse, athletic in build, with a black braided mane thundering up the sidewalk in his direction. "Stop in the name of the la-a-a-a-w!" Pearl shouted.
Barry's eyes flew wide open and he squealed. "G'yuah! The jig is up, I've gotta dip!"
Barry retreated to his getaway bike and hopped on, revving the motor a few times, before gunning the engine and peeling off. Pearl then shouted from behind, "ey! We've got a runner! Nee-noy-nee-noy-nee-noy!"
Barry lane-splitted through stopped traffic and made a risky maneuver making a right turn, joining the flow of moving cars that had the right of way. Doing that made no difference to Pearl, who simply made a sharp right down the sidewalk and galloped alongside a speeding Barry. Barry saw this and felt his heart drop to the bottom of his chest, then decided to take more drastic measures. He veered across two lanes and cut off a few cars, who honked their horns angrily at him, and swerved down the middle of an intersection onto an alternate road.
Pearl frowned and huffed at the unexpected play in this game of concrete chess. "Note to self: ticket for multiple traffic violations and evading an officer of the law," said Pearl to herself.
Pearl resumed her authoritative chant and galloped onto the road. "Nee-noy-nee-noy-nee-noy!"
Pearl did her best to squeeze into open spaces in the lanes of cars, keeping light on her hooves trying not to get crushed or mowed down by inattentive drivers. Much to her dismay, the traffic light shifted to red and all the cars flowing with her direction came to a halt. "No, no, no! Come on, come on, move!" Pearl cried in a panicked tone.
Pearl ran through the narrow space between two lanes of cars and into the intersection, before any of the opposing cars had a chance to move. When she crossed into the intersection, the opposing cars started to move not expecting a police horse to come jumping out in front of them. Out of all the road hazards, no one expected an equine nuisance to be one of them. Several cars slammed on the brakes and screeched to a halt, blaring their horns in a tumultuous orchestra with their fellow drivers. A few cars smashed into each other, getting dinged up along with a compact car that had its whole front bumper torn off (which was now laying in the middle of the intersection). Pearl grimaced at the collateral damage she'd caused and knew the chief would have her head for it, but she didn't care — she had her prime suspect in the missing dog's case, and she wasn't about to lose them for squat.
Just when Barry thought he was golden, Pearl reappeared several feet behind him. He glanced behind him and gasped, not expecting the heat to be back on so early. He gunned the engine and wrung out every last ounce of horsepower he could get out of the mini bike's paperweight of a motor. The engine raved as it shook the handlebars beneath Barry's hands. Despite giving his mini bike all the juice, Pearl was still gaining on him as the bike hit its top speed.
Barry made a detour onto a one-way street, further narrowed by cars parked by the curbside on both sides. Pearl came around the corner and wasn't about to let up. This perp' was all hers. Barry made an abrupt bee-line into the over-filled parking lot of an apartment complex. He turned left and right as if he were in a video game going for the fastest time, and Pearl stuck to him like glue. That's when Barry hit the brakes and skidded to a screeching halt — a trail of white smoke licking up from the asphalt.
Pearl stared down her suspect and snorted, steam fuming from her nostrils. "Drop your keys. I'm taking you downtown," said Pearl in a stern tone.
The mysterious helmeted rider only tilted his head peculiarly, then in the blink of an eye, gunned the engine and took off. "So that's how it's gonna be, eh? You've got guts thinking you can outmatch the department's finest." Pearl charged forward as the suspect sped full-throttle towards her. The policeman, who went along for the ride, sitting on her back finally looked up from his smartphone and his eyes flew open. What a time to wake up in the middle of the action. He desperately yanked on the reins to call his head-strong equestrian partner off.
"Heel girl, heel!" The policeman commanded authoritatively.
But for Pearl, the command went in one ear and out the other. Pearl thundered down the parking lot straight at the buzzing mini bike coming her way like an angry wasp on the attack. That's when the policeman had to snap his horse out of it. Her rider yanked more harshly on her reins and, in a strident voice, commanded, "at ease!"
As the command was uttered, the mini bike riding bandit veered from course — inches away from colliding with Pearl — passing by her as they both met eye-to-eye. Barry suddenly shoved Pearl roughly in the side, causing her to lose her footing and fall over. Pearl neighed loudly in distress as she went down. She crashed to the coarse asphalt taking her rider down with her, and Barry sped away from the scene — his bike's buzzing growing fainter and fainter, 'til it vanished.
Pearl laid in that parking lot, on her side, feeling a deep sense of shame that she had failed not only in her duty as an officer, but the Dalmatian family as well. It hurt, knowing how much the disappearance of Dawkins would have affected the family she knew so well in this town. Pearl then shouted to the sky, as if it were the doer of all her woes, "I'll get you for this, you miscreant!"
The policeman who was assigned to her then reprimanded her angrily, "what the deuce has gotten into you today, girl? I've never seen you as spooked as this."
Pearl only lowered her gaze and sighed.
"Humans."
Barry walked into his bedroom to find Comet asleep on his bed. When he set his backpack down, Comet immediately woke up and raised his head to look at him with a weary expression. Barry simply smiled, a shadow of deviousness behind it, and unzipped his backpack. "I don't think your former owners will be coming back for you, anytime ever. So, I thought, 'hey, might as well complete your initiation into the family'. And, so, I bought you a collar. A very very special collar," he said in an artificially happy tone.
Comet raised a brow as he watched the backpack carefully as Barry jimmied a box, lodged deep inside it, out of it. The slim box came into view, and Comet saw it was that of a collar. Comet read the label: "Wave Heeler Mark II — patent pending". But what caught his eye were the words: "microwave technology". Comet gulped, realizing the danger he was truly in. He had heard of military experiments aiming to create heat rays through the usage of microwaves, but never would he have thought microwave collars would hit the market!
Barry chuckled darkly as he unboxed the midnight blue, rocketship-patterned, collar. He took it out of its plastic wrapping and it appeared to be made of fabric like any other collar, except it had a lining of black flexible plastic with metal bumps for an inner lining. Barry then pulled out a thick, bulky gray rubber-coated remote from the box. He took off the bottom battery cover, which was screwless, and checked what the situation for it was. He sighed in relief. "Okay, good, batteries included," he said aloud.
Barry popped the cover back on, and then looked at Comet, who was backed up against the wall in fear. Barry then smiled smugly. "Come put on your new collar, Comet. Be part of the family," coaxed Barry.
Comet frantically shook his head.
"Come on. . . I bought this just for you, you wouldn't want to disappoint me again, would you?" Barry tilted his head and cocked a brow.
When Barry came in close with a wide mischievous grin, Dawkins hastily grabbed a sharpened pencil and pointed it at Barry. "Stay back! I warn you, I have advanced dexterity in the art of the pencil!" Dawkins cautioned.
Barry only guffawed at this, and said, "how cute. . . a little spear to keep me away. Silly, silly. . . " Barry then looked over at an obscure corner of the room and said in confusion, "hey, I didn't know an opossum got in here."
Dawkins glanced in the corner Barry was looking at, and that was when Barry rushed Dawkins and snatched the pencil out of his paw — throwing it out of reach. Barry then grabbed Dawkins by the shoulder roughly and held up the collar. "I said put on your collar," said Barry, now more menacingly.
Dawkins swallowed and trembled, looking at him in fear. Barry felt no sympathy, and wrapped the collar around Dawkins' neck, snapping the little clasp in place. Dawkins squealed and started to hyperventilate, clawing at the collar pathetically which did him no good.
Barry then backed away, his job being done. He then spoke, "ya' see, there's a penalty for misbehaving with me, dear friend. Do you know why that collar you're wearing is so special?"
Comet nodded, having read the packaging.
Barry stifled a chuckle, and then responded, "yeah? Well, I'm gonna tell you anyways. . . At the turn of a dial, I will be able to induce a powerful, nerve-searing burning sensation through your collar. The microwaves emitted from this device will ravage your entire body, but leave no physical trace behind. That means you will be punished as much as I see fit, and no one will ever know it had ever happened."
Dawkins cried out aghast. "Kibbles! You're an absolute beast! Who do you think you are? Jigsaw?" Dawkins exclaimed.
Barry cackled. "I can't tell if you're protesting or making a threat right now, but uh. . . I would watch my verbage if I were you, especially when I'm the man with the controls." Barry held up and wiggled the bulky remote as a warning.
Barry's jovial expression dried up into a cold stoic one. He then said in a serious tone of voice, lacking emotion, "I must say, that was pretty drab dipping out on me the way you did. I haven't forgotten about last night, been dwelling on it all day in school to be frank. It's time you've taken your medicine, Comet."
"So, why don't you have some?" With that last sentence, Barry twisted the dial on the remote to stage 1.
Before Dawkins could even think anything, he was pulverized by an intense burning sensation that spread all across his skin. It felt as if he'd been stung by an entire colony of fire ants then doused in alcohol. He tried to scream, but as soon as it came out his throat seared with immense burning as if it had been stripped raw, so he gritted his teeth and groaned agonizingly. Dawkins fell over on the bed, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his fists tight. The pain was so bad, that his mind was numbed and paralyzed from even functioning.
To Dawkins' gratitude, Barry turned the dial again — but this time to the "OFF" position. The silent burn collar shut off, and the pain was gone. Dawkins' skin was still sore from the retribution session Barry had with him, but he was grateful to still be alive. He panted and let his thoughts find their way back to him. Much of his returning thoughts were vague, but the clearest one rang out as: "I avert from finding out what will become of me if he were to strike me with the maximum setting."
Barry smiled again, this time more subtly, and crossed his arms. "That was a stage 1 burn. This baby goes all the way to stage, freakin', 5. . . yeah. . . so unless you want to experience what it feels like to be skinned 'n boiled alive in magma, I suggest you straighten up," he explained.
Barry then looked at Dawkins intently with his hands on his hips. "So. . . what's it gonna be?"
A/N: Glad to finally add more to the story. I haven't gotten writer's block yet, and I really hope not to further on neither. That would really suck, lol. See you next chapter!